


if you talk enough sense, then you'll lose your mind

by theweightofmywords



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Denial of Feelings, F/M, Post-Battle of Hogwarts, Rare Pair, down and out slytherins, what is this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-25
Updated: 2016-08-25
Packaged: 2018-08-10 23:51:32
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 817
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7866304
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theweightofmywords/pseuds/theweightofmywords
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The first time he called her “Baby,” a thought passed fleetingly through her brain that she should be offended.</p><p>“I’m not your baby,” she thought, even as a whimper escaped her throat.</p>
            </blockquote>





	if you talk enough sense, then you'll lose your mind

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: J.K. Rowling owns my ass, let's be honest. Title taken from the Amber Run song, "I Found."
> 
> Feel free to message me on [ tumblr ](http://harryjvmes.tumblr.com) if you'd like.

The first time he called her “Baby,” a thought passed fleetingly through her brain that she should be offended.

“I’m not your baby,” she thought, even as a whimper escaped her throat. She dug her sharp nails into his shoulders. His hands held onto her hips, and she felt his callouses rough against her skin.

“Go on,” he grunted in a whisper.

She did.

 

* * *

 

Even as the months passed and turned into a year, as her visit turned into an extended stay and her belongings made their way out of her trunks and into dresser drawers, she couldn’t shake the anger over not getting what she wanted out of life.

“Get over it,” he said to her one evening, as he threw another log onto the fire. The punishment for their crimes was to live a wandless life for two years. Stripped of his magic, Greg had only tapped into his human power. Pansy caught herself biting her lip as she saw him fan the flames with yesterday’s Prophet, and she cleared her throat.

“We were on the wrong side. We’re losers, Pans,” he concluded. He flopped onto the couch beside her, and threw an arm around her small shoulders.

“Don’t call me ‘Pans,’” she wanted to say, but as she burrowed into his side, she only closed her eyes. “The only loser I see here is you,” she murmured into his ear.

“Fuck off, Parkinson,” he replied as he began tickling her, trailing wet kisses up and down her neck. She pretended she hated it, but the sound of her laugh echoing in the otherwise empty room betrayed her.

And later that night, as they moved together, she clung to the headboard and felt every bit the winner.

 

* * *

 

Draco noticed first.

“Nothing’s going on,” she whispered, in a knee-jerk reaction. She wondered when lying started becoming an instinct. Greg never lied- not to her, not to Draco, not to the world. He was an open book, and part of her felt disdainful of his freedom. Another part wanted to hide him and everything they had away. It was _hers_.

She had always been a bit selfish.

“Pansy,” Draco sighed. I’m not stupid.”

He glanced out the window. She got the feeling that he couldn’t care less about the truth. It was Crabbe’s birthday, and although they all wanted to be around each other, conversation wasn’t a necessary ingredient for the evening.

“I mean it!” she continued, not bothering to whisper. “Nothing’s happening with me and _Goyle,_ that’s disgust _-_ ”

Draco had cleared his throat and stood upright against the window frame.

“Goyle,” he greeted.

Greg nodded in return before sitting on the far end of the couch. He poured two fingers of firewhisky into his glass and grinned coolly at Pansy.

“Go on,” he said, his brows raised.

Pansy felt the words stick in her throat. She tried smiling, but her teeth felt too large. It all felt _wrong_.

She thought about their nights on that couch, sitting and talking until the fire died. The quiet words between them, her echoing laughter. It was frightening in its honesty.

There had always been more control in creating her own truth.

“I was just telling Draco how I’ve been thinking of moving out soon. Right Draco?”

Draco’s face remained impassive. Owing loyalty to them both, he was a true neutral in this quiet feud. “Sure,” he answered, pouring himself a glass of whisky.

“I can help you pack,” Greg replied, staring at her. He finished his glass in one gulp.

Pansy felt herself nodding, and she heard the words come out before she realised what she was agreeing to.

“Okay,” she said, even as her mind screamed, _“No, please, let me stay-”_

 

* * *

 

“You think you’re too good for me,” Greg said plainly. Pansy wished it sounded like a question.

She had never been good at honesty, but for the first time in her life, she wanted to try.

“No,” she whispered. “I don’t.”

“You’ve been living with me for a year now, but you still can’t even look me in the eye when we’re around the others-”

“Greg, please,” she tried. Her hands grazed his arms, the very same ones she fell asleep in every night.

“I don’t need you around,” he murmured, staring at her hands on his arms but doing nothing to move them. It made her want to cry.

And so she did.

“Don’t cry,” he said, gruffly. He pulled her closer, and she felt so small. She wanted to yell at him for dismissing her emotions, but at his words, she just smiled. Everything else felt so complicated, but he was so simple in the way he treated her.

“I hate you so much,” she laughed, blinking back her tears.

“No, you don’t,” he shook his head, cupping her face in his hand.

She closed her eyes and tilted her head up.

“No, I don’t."

  



End file.
